


return to censor

by dykescore



Category: Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Despair (Dangan Ronpa), Feudal Japan, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Japanese Culture, M/M, Story within a Story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:28:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26398675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dykescore/pseuds/dykescore
Summary: mondo’s required to take a course on japanese history, and, according to his professor, there should be a large omitted section of their required reading. somehow, his copy includes it. he asks kiyotaka to research it for him, and finds that it's far more interesting than what he's being taught in class.
Relationships: Ishimaru Kiyotaka/Oowada Mondo, Kuzuryu Fuyuhiko/Soda Kazuichi
Comments: 10
Kudos: 39





	1. to be equal

mondo squinted hard at his schoolbook. 

the paperback looked laughably small in his hands, almost quaint compared to his rather square frame. he would’ve looked menacing if not for the thin glasses on the end of his nose. much to his dismay, his farsightedness had only gotten worse since graduating from high school. kiyotaka peeked at him from the corner of his eye, diligently typing away at his dissertation on how law and lawmakers are not inclined to reflect morality. 

> "is something wrong? you're making a funny face," taka said, turning his attention away from the computer screen.
> 
> "huh? well, nothing's wrong, i'm just confused about something," mondo replied, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.
> 
> "may i help?" taka asked, turning around fully in his desk chair.
> 
> "i dunno. so, for this mandatory japanese studies class, i have to read this book about the edo period. there's this part my professor said would be censored, but i think mine still has it."
> 
> "any guesses as to why?" taka asked, puzzled.
> 
> "i have a hunch," mondo replied, pulling out his phone. "in the email, she said 'the first twelve pages of chapter six will be omitted, as these passages are largely irrelevant to the class focus. your books will continue on to the remaining portion of chapter six with the exception of these unrelated pages.' i didn't think about it until i finished chapter five and it didn't skip like she said it would."
> 
> "huh, that's strange. it seems like this was definitely an error, did you tell her about it?"
> 
> "i was gonna ask, but i started reading it out of curiosity." mondo said, dragging his thumb along the pages.
> 
> "isn't that counterproductive?" taka asked.
> 
> "ah, it's a minor setback. anyway, i was actually gonna tell you about it, it might be interesting to you."

taka sat down next to mondo on the couch, leaning into his shoulder as he started reading through chapter six.

> "just skimming through, i'm not sure why this would be irrelevant to the class. you're focusing on the edo period right now, yes?"
> 
> "yea, that's right. that's what i was confused about. until i got to this part."

mondo flipped a few pages, tapping the place where taka should read.

> "'scholars of the edo period attribute many of these intimate details of tekiya and bakuto practices and lifestyles to the detailed descriptive poems by a young bakuto member, kuzuryuu fuyuhiko. his contributions were often attributed incorrectly to more credible scholars of the day in past recordings. these incongruencies were discovered and corrected, as more educated scholars during this period would not have had access to such intimate knowledge of peasantry practices such as gambling and peddling. it can be said with certainty that the practices studied by contemporary scholars exist in historical recordings thanks to kuzuryuu's writings; through his gift with words, kuzuryuu unintentionally preserved a valuable part of life during the edo period.'"

taka tilted his head, making a soft _tsk_ noise.

> "i see what you mean, but i still don't understand how this information was irrelevant to the class, all things considered."
> 
> "me neither, _but_.... i was hoping you'd know more about it than me. besides, it's your kind of thing, anyway."
> 
> "well, i have a dissertation to write... though, i suppose a small break to research a topic of interest could be helpful," taka considered.
> 
> "sure, whenever you get a minute," mondo replied.

he stood and stretched, pausing to give taka a brief kiss. taka blushed bright red.

> "i'll start dinner, you take a break to research or whatever you want, okay, baby?"
> 
> "i... yes... i will... yes.... do that..."

mondo puttered around the kitchen, grabbing pans and seasonings from the cabinets. he'd gotten pretty good at making quick meals, taka mused. and, there was something cute about such a big man delicately peeling potatoes with a paring knife. taka had to tear his gaze away from his boyfriend to focus on taking his well-earned break. he settled into his desk chair, pulling up a browser window and typing in the keywords "kuzuryuu fuyuhiko." it was besides the point, but he considered himself excellent at online research, considering his adept and efficient typing with minimal errors, as well as his quick reading and assessment skills. but, back to the research itself. 

taka was confused by the search results. the first two pages of results, having read the taglines of each one, all discussed homosexual yearning and attraction through diary entries and verse poetry. not to worry, it was a simple correction to be made. taka opened a new tab, this time entering the keywords "kuzuryuu fuyuhiko bakuto," hoping that would refine the search results. puzzlingly, the results were largely the same, or discussed the same topic. he clicked on the most scholarly-looking website, a historical writer's collective. a synopsis was bolded at the top of the page.

"kuzuryuu fuyuhiko was a bakuto gambler, an individual belonging to that scorned underbelly class of japan's edo period. he is acknowledged by many traditional academics for his attentive descriptions of bakuto and tekiya practice; these, however, are secondary to his true contributions to both poetry and the history of homosexuality in ancient japan. kuzuryuu's depictions of gambling and peddling merely provide a setting in which to create a series of heartfelt and moving volumes of verse and diary-form essays, all dedicated to his lover, a young man of his same age. though rarely mentioned by name in his works, kuzuryuu's lover, souda kazuichi, was the muse of more than four hundred poems and thirty-six essays. though large portions of these poems and essays have been lost to the ages, what remains has been compiled on this website for public viewing. it is our belief at the hope's peak literature collective that the works of writers such as kuzuryuu should be accessible to all who wish to learn about them. we hope you take something away from kuzuryuu's works, and that you will consider visiting our other collections of writings of antiquity if you feel so inclined."

taka looked back at mondo, who was making a soup stock in a tall pot.

> "love?" taka called.
> 
> "hmm? what's up?" mondo replied, not looking up from dropping a small dish full of seaweed flakes into the pot.
> 
> "i did a little research on kuzuryuu, and i think i know why your professor omitted the passage that mentioned him."

mondo looked up, curious. taka beckoned him over.

> "i found this writer's guild that talks about him, and it turns out that he was gay, bi, actually, and the hundreds of poems and essays dedicated to his lover," taka informed him.

mondo looked shocked, if not delighted.

> "that makes sense... she does give off a homophobic vibe. but that's so cool that his shit survived. do they have the poems, too?"
> 
> "yes, there's an index at the bottom of this page," taka said, hovering over it.
> 
> "can you send me the link? i wanna read some of it later, see if it's _all that_."
> 
> "don't you have to read the rest of that book? you know, the parts that weren't taken out on purpose?"
> 
> "you mean the bland heterosexual parts? yea, i guess, but i'm not gonna enjoy it," mondo grumbled, pinching taka's cheek before heading back to the kitchen.
> 
> "such a downer," taka quipped.
> 
> "hey, shouldn't your research break time be over by now?" mondo teased.

taka stuck his tongue out at him, turning back to his computer. he was right, and he was rarely the voice of reason, but taka _did_ want to get an idea of what kuzuryuu was all about. he clicked on the first essay excerpt in the index. 

> "the day had been mild with the promise of a cold autumn. it was evening, and i was returning home to retire from a day of losing hands. to be literal, i had pulled one winning hand two many. amongst the other lowlives, i was quick to make bets and slow to accept defeat. not that such a trait was uncommon amongst the gamblers, but it showed exceptional strength when met with my own hot temper. a newcomer took great offense to my winning streak that day, picking a fight with me out of spite. he was a fool, of course, since i am somewhat notorious amongst my kind of people for my ruthlessness in physical altercations. yet, i still had some wounds to bear. my right eye had swollen shut from a sharp blow, and i walked off-balance. i must have looked quite beside myself with drunkenness as i took the path home, so much so that i drew the notice of an inro-maker's apprentice, standing and carving an inro's uppermost compartment. 
> 
> 'stranger,' he called to me. 'is it not early to be unsteady on one's feet after drinking?'
> 
> his hair was wild and unruly, held aloft in odd places as if by some unknown hand. his face was amused, presumably by my apparent drunkenness, though his gaze shone with good natures. 
> 
> 'indeed, though i am not a drunkard,' i replied, turning so he might see my unfortunate injury. he was sympathetic to my plight. he took quickly to apologizing in the polite way, offering me a drink. this was after his having understood that i, in opposition to his earlier assumption, was not yet drunk. the workshop in which he made his inros was small, filled with too many objects in too many strange places. nevertheless, i accepted his kindness in the form of a drink. 
> 
> 'are you a gambler?' he asked me, and grinned not unlike a child would when caught doing something they should not.
> 
> i laughed, and asked him in earnest how he could tell.
> 
> 'i have been amongst gamblers,' he said most slyly, as if sharing a most terrible secret. 'they wear the marks of loss as you do now.' he gestured to his own unharmed right eye, a mirror of my own. 
> 
> 'is it so conspicious?' i asked him, a hot shame creeping up. it was enough to be scorned for my way of living upon catching me in the act, yet it was entirely too hurtful to have it written upon my very skin as it was.
> 
> 'do not fear,' he told me. 'you can remain here in my company until it has healed. then, you might go about your business in relative peace.'
> 
> there was kindness in his movements and his voice. such a kindness is unique to those who have been scorned. should you ask most men, such a man would tell you that it is better to live without disdain from others. but, i am simply not most men. and i have grown fond of knowing such kindness that can only be produced and received by they who live under the sting of the lash in any of its forms. we spoke long into the night, and he spoke of many things i had not spoken about with another person, most definitely not another man. i had not spoken so candidly with another person in my life. though i had two sisters, one adopted and one by birth, i would not have dared to expose such vulnerable aspects of myself.
> 
> he told me that was among those kinds of men who called themselves woman-haters.
> 
> 'i do not hate women in the more emotional sense,' he assured me. 'they are beautiful to me, and i value them above most men. i am, however, not inclined to couple with them. i respect them as equals in mind and body, and i wish upon them fulfilling partnerships. even amongst men, i feel at equals with them, though i do not feel we are the same. i do not see my mind nor my body as that which belongs to a man. rather, i see them as that which belongs to me, myself. perhaps i should feel sadness or agony in discussing such matters, but i do not. i am equal to both woman and man, though we are not the same. i am inclined to believe i am something apart.'
> 
> to be something apart was not unfamiliar to me. in all senses of the phrase this was true, but his words especially were not strange to my ears. 
> 
> 'what shall i call you?' i asked him. 'if not a man nor woman, what do you wish to be called?'
> 
> he thought deeply for many moments.
> 
> 'you may call me your equal,' he said. 'you may address me as you would a man, though i am not one. i wish to be to everyone an equal.'
> 
> there was an earnest quality to his way of speaking. he spoke as if his heart were a precious treasure that he wanted very much to share with others. there was such tenderness in his being. i did not know such a thing could exist out in the open. all beings, of course, have such tenderness within them. yet, because it is a fragile thing indeed, it can be so easily destroyed. that is why i am inclined to keep such tenderness belonging to me hidden away, showing it only to those i know do not wish to harm it. that night, the apprentice's mentor returned, his steps heavy with scorn to deliver upon others. seeing us together, he raised his hand as if to strike his apprentice. i would not allow it, and claimed his punishment as my own. the inro-maker cast the both of us out with rough hands, brow set with violence not yet committed.
> 
> my equal and i were set upon the street, and so i lead him to the small place i called a home. i told him he could remain there in my company until he found another place to be. then, he might go about his business in relative peace. he laughed, then, as i echoed his own words, and in the flash of his teeth i saw within myself that tenderness with which i am so protective."

> "taka, dinner's ready," mondo called, breaking his concentration.
> 
> "coming," he replied, shutting his laptop after a moment's hesitation.

he sat down to eat, thanking his lover for the meal he had prepared for the both of them. and in the flash of his teeth when he smiled, taka could see that tenderness kuzuryuu had described so vividly. 


	2. cruelty

taka barely registered mondo's head resting on his shoulder.

> "good morning, darling," taka said, kissing his cheek.
> 
> "mphgm.... the hell are you up so early for?"

the clock read 5:34.

> "just doing some light reading," taka replied, eyes glued to the screen.
> 
> "you readin' that kuzuryuu stuff again?"
> 
> "yes.... why?"

he felt the vibrations of mondo's chuckles.

> "you just seem pretty excited about it."
> 
> "i suppose you could say that," taka said flatly.
> 
> "well, i'm gonna go back to bed," mondo said, turning to patter back to the bedroom.
> 
> "wait," taka said.

he pulled his eyes from the screen, hopping up and circling his arms around mondo. he kissed him sweetly, rubbing his face in gentle circles.

> "i love you," taka said. "now, go get some rest, you have class in a few hours."
> 
> "you're a peach," mondo said, kissing his hand before heading off to bed.

taka watched his back as he walked away.

> "kyoudai?"
> 
> "mm?"
> 
> "i know you loved your hair in high school, but i have to say, i love how it looks now."

mondo ran a sheepish hand over his head. he'd ditched the pompadour for an undercut, letting the longer parts grow into his eyes.

> "you love it no matter how it looks," mondo said cheekily, disappearing from view behind the doorframe.

taka sighed. he was right. he sat back down, picking up where he left off in the next section he was reading.

> "that first night he stayed within my company, he cried out in his sleep like a child. i have always slept lightly, for peril comes quietly, and one must always be cautious. yet he, for all his charm and bravado, twitched and wailed, all the while sleeping most soundly. i did not know what to do. i loathed the thought of waking him, but oh, how my body shook and longed for rest. i reached out a hesitant hand and touched him in his writhings. he stilled, mumbling some words i could not hear before opening his eyes. his eyes were heavy and thick with sleep.
> 
> 'did i wake you?' he asked me, in a voice so small i could scarcely hear it.
> 
> 'yes,' i said.
> 
> perhaps i should have not been so honest, but i do not know another way to be. he sat up slowly, mouth downturned with some grief i could not name.
> 
> 'i apologize,' he said. 'i dream of terrible things, and so i cry without meaning to.'
> 
> 'i understand,' i told him, for i did. 
> 
> we sat in the darkened silence for more than a moment. there was dim light from outside, which told me it was early morning.
> 
> 'what aids you when they come?' i asked him.
> 
> i desired sleep most of all, yet i asked not only for my own sake. his form slumped with exhaustion. he laid down, turning away from me before answering.
> 
> 'i do not know... no one has tried to help me.'
> 
> he sounded so old, not unlike a grandfather with hollow bones and clouded eyes.
> 
> 'ah.' i spoke like a fool, for i did not know what to say. i had never been one to speak well.
> 
> 'i have not been held since i was a child,' he said.
> 
> i did not understand how he could say such things. i might have thought, then, that he was a fool, but he spoke too gently, too kindly.
> 
> 'nor have i,' i said.
> 
> i do not know why. i had never spoken something so fragile to another person. the words seemed to take me as a vessel, i did not choose to speak them.
> 
> he patted the space next to him on the futon. i did not understand.
> 
> 'come here,' he said in a quiet voice.
> 
> 'why?' i replied.
> 
> i was truly foolish.
> 
> he frowned slightly, turning away from me and pulling the duvet tightly across his body.
> 
> i grew cross. who was he to invite me into his bed after not a mere night in his company?
> 
> 'you are a stranger to me,' i said coldly. 'you could very well cut my throat as i sleep.'
> 
> he could not, for, as i said, i am too cautious for such a thing to happen.
> 
> 'very well,' he said, muffled by the cloth of the bedding.
> 
> he did not speak again for a long while. i assumed he had fallen asleep, until i heard his whimpering sobs.
> 
> 'pathetic,' i whispered.
> 
> he must have heard my words, for he sat straight up, abandoning his bedding and pattering across the floor. he slid open the door to the outside. the air was cool, and, though i would never have admitted it then, i was glad for his opening the door. he sat in the threshold, somber and quiet. i had almost drifted off to sleep when he spoke.
> 
> 'you are a gambling lowlife, yet you insult me as if i did not invite you into my home.'
> 
> i was startled by the harshness of his words. for a moment, i was too stunned to be angry. that, however, could not last. i buried myself deeper in the coverlet, biting back sharply.
> 
> 'it was hardly your home, you are nothing more than an apprentice.'
> 
> 'i suppose i am no longer an apprentice, am i?' he said bitterly. 'i have you to blame for that.'
> 
> 'you are to blame yourself for inviting me in,' i replied.
> 
> he turned to look at me, lips pulled thin with hurt.
> 
> 'are you so ungrateful for kindness? do you crave isolation so deeply?'
> 
> i did not know what to say. so, i said something childish.
> 
> 'did your mentor discard you like refuse because he saw us together? would he rather have no son at all than a woman-hater son?'
> 
> he laughed cruelly.
> 
> 'do not ridicule me when we are different bodies and same minds,' he sneered.
> 
> i sat up, outraged.
> 
> 'are you insulting me?' i asked him then.
> 
> 'i am calling you a homosexual,' he replied. 'whether that is an insult or a tender quip depends solely on your own thinking.'
> 
> he made me furious. he spoke so easily of agony and adoration in all the ways i would have liked to, but could not. i despised him in those moments, because i craved him.
> 
> 'i am not like you,' i said in a loud voice. 
> 
> i was.
> 
> 'are you telling me you are a heterosexual?' he asked, turning his head inquisitively.
> 
> 'i.... i am not a woman-hater,' i said, and that much was true.
> 
> 'ah, but are you a lover of men?' he countered. 'one can most certainly be both in kind.'
> 
> i did not tell him of my encounters with bakuto boys who loved only women, but craved a kind of strangeness and taboo that acts of homosexuality could supply. i did not tell him of my short relationships with kind young women, forced to part with me upon learning my trade. i most certainly did not tell him of a young man who kissed me with fervor days before he was slaughtered by a bakuto for having stolen from him something most precious.
> 
> 'yes.... i am,' i said, and the words seemed to pull themselves from my lips against my heart's intention.
> 
> 'and so the truth presents itself,' he laughed.
> 
> he stretched and i heard his spine crack.
> 
> 'my mentor is my father... or, was,' he said.
> 
> 'is that so?' i replied, trying to sound unfeeling.
> 
> 'yes. making inros is a family trade, as it would turn out."
> 
> 'he must have been ashamed of you,' i said.
> 
> 'he was ashamed of me for many things, not only my being a homosexual. he is a man most impossible to please, but, oh, how i want.... wanted, to please him.'
> 
> he spoke things i had thought to myself many times over. he was strange... had we met before, in some other time?
> 
> 'what? no hurtful retort?' he asked me, startling me out of my thoughts.
> 
> 'what of your mother? is she a whore?' i said scathingly.
> 
> 'for one who loves women, you speak of them unkindly. i have much admiration for prostitutes. they work to survive the same as i do, except they are more beautiful than i. but, no, she was not. she helped my father with the business, and now she is dead.'
> 
> 'oh.'
> 
> 'that is all i have to tell you about myself that you could shame me for,' he announced. 'i am tired now, so i will sleep.'
> 
> he pulled shut the door that let in that cool air, and i could not swallow my qualm.
> 
> 'wait.'
> 
> he looked back at me, puzzled.
> 
> 'please... let it stay open.'
> 
> he said nothing, and for a moment, it seemed as if he was ignoring me. without a word, he slid it open just slightly, and returned to his bed.
> 
> it was not long before i heard his labored breaths of sleep. he whimpered from dreaming, though it was quieter then than it had been before. i felt a temptation to wake him, to force him to speak with me. i had not spoken at length with another person for a very long time. i looked at my trembling hands and circled them round' myself. i imagined they were belonging to another. i wept so quietly i did not know i was weeping until hot tears settled across my arms. i did not know he had woken until i felt his hand on my shoulder.
> 
> 'what do you want?' i tried to retort, yet my voice cracked.
> 
> he motioned for me to make room for him. stubborn, i shook my head. he rolled his eyes, shoving my arms aside and crawling in beside me. he turned away from me, as if out of courtesy. i felt a petulant frustration that it was _he_ acting in courtesy to me, instead of the opposite being true. impulsive, i grabbed him roughly by the shoulder and turned him toward me. his gaze was surprised, but he said nothing. i turned away from him, placing his arms around my middle. he made a surprised noise low in his throat, yet did not move. 
> 
> we spent those first nights like this, bickering in earnest before falling asleep touching the other's skin. i spent those first accompanying days gambling, he harking his wares in some dingy market stall. he would appear in the evenings with rice and meat and vegetables. i would ask of him how he came upon those things, and he would not answer me. i knew he was a thief, yet i did not want to admit as much to myself nor to him. i was rather stiff in those days. he enjoyed setting out dishes of meat scraps for stray cats outside our door. i protested at first, complaining that they would grow dependent on us and become soft. he told me that that softness was not evil, and i did not reply. sure enough, we had amassed a loyal legion of cats before long. they would mewl and loiter about our door to be fed. they would fight often, but he would break them up, holding each cat up my that elastic skin on their necks. he would tut at them to be civil, standing between them until their hackles fell.
> 
> they took well to him, though often they would lash out at him in their fear. his fingers and arms were decorated with welts, yet he did not complain. he opened the door one evening, offering our home to the more bold ones. i shouted at him then, scaring them off. he shouted back at me, then. it is one of the few times he ever raised his voice, much less to me. there were tears in his eyes as he spat at me that they were to be treated with kindness. i could not retort. it took several days for the bravest cats to peek in through the doorway, several more for one to seek refuge inside. as the frost settled in, they grew more eager to come inside for warmth. in those first cold months, our small house was abound with the sleeping forms of feral cats. though, they were not so feral for much longer. 
> 
> against my will, i grew fond of them. they reminded me in many ways of myself, and so we got along. there was one in particular who liked me very much. he called her shizuka. she was grey, with a white chest and belly. she came and sat on my legs while i was writing or counting coins. she was more trusting than the others, and she wobbled slightly as she walked. nevertheless, she was very content, and quite spoiled, as all of them were. he would dangle pieces of fish skin over her head, delighting in how she followed it with her eyes before letting her enjoy it. i grew rather attached to her in time, expecting her to slip into my arms as i settled into bed. after a time, shizuka became slower, walking with heavier step and eating with more ferocity then before. i did not say as much to him, but i worried terribly for her health. 
> 
> 'how can you be so unaffected?' i asked him one day, frustrated and upset.
> 
> 'by what?' he asked, incredulous.
> 
> 'shizuka is dying and you do not care. i did not know you could ever be so heartless.'
> 
> he laughed then, so much that he gripped his sides in pain. i was shocked, did he languish in the death of a precious pet? he must have seen the horror writ on my face, for he told me to calm myself.
> 
> 'she is pregnant, not dying,' he told me.
> 
> i felt so foolish, but terribly relieved, and more than a bit excited. i had scarcely been around kittens, yet they seemed so fragile, so very small. he told me he had known for many months, and that she would have her babies any day now. i thought for a moment, and a new fear emerged. i asked him, frantically, how we could possibly help shizuka raise such fragile and delicate creatures.
> 
> 'do not discount her abilities, she needs little from us but warmth and safety to raise her children,' he assured me.
> 
> yet, still i worried. on that day she gave birth, she hissed and howled in pain, and it was as if i was being gutted. he stayed at her side, whispering to her and petting her gently as her body seized. i could not look, could not bear to see her in such a state. he came and grabbed my arm after a long while, dragging me to the cushioned basket in which she had given birth. her eyes were closed with joy as four newborn kittens suckled at her stomach. she could only be described in that moment as proud. and she ought to be. though they were quite alien-looking in the first few days, they grew to be quite beautiful. there were two males and two females, kicking at each other for space at her stomach. one looked like a koi fish, bright spots of orange across her back amidst the black and white. another was grey like his mother, with white paws that were smaller than my shortest fingertip. one was orange and striped, slightly bigger than her brothers and sister. the last kitten was black, with white on the very end of her tail. she was the smallest, and i fussed over her most. yet, shizuka seemed to realize my discomfort, and paid careful attention to her. he would sit and watch them in those first days, giggling as they mewled and struggled on unsteady legs to walk. in those moments he was watching them, i watched his expressions and how his body moved. it was strange to me how he could be so open, so vulnerable. after time spent with him, though, i began to appreciate his earnest nature. it did, however, take more time to undo that vain tongue of mine. yet, i somehow would learn. from him, and from shizuka, it would seem."

taka only realized how much time had passed when mondo called to him that he was leaving for school.

> "already? isn't it early?" he asked.
> 
> "yea, but i have a group project, and i'm heading in to meet with my classmates before first period."
> 
> "ah. have you eaten yet?"
> 
> "no, but i made a smoothie to have when i'm there."

taka frowned.

> "you should eat here, you still have time."
> 
> "i'll be fine, promise," mondo replied, kissing his forehead before heading out the door.
> 
> "kyoudai?" taka called.
> 
> "hmm?" mondo said, pausing in the doorway.
> 
> "i love you, have a great day!"

mondo grinned.

> "i love you, too, i'l see you in a bit!"

taka looked back at his computer, thinking. mondo had voiced recently that he'd wanted to get a dog, but their apartment complex didn't allow them. now, a cat... 


End file.
